


I Know

by Samayel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence, Romance, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samayel/pseuds/Samayel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco finally pushes Harry too far, touching off an encounter that changes everything between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know

I Know…by Samayel

 

The tie he was being dragged by was stifling his throat, and breaths were becoming scarcer and shorter every second. The other tie, Harry’s own, was around his wrists, so tight that his hands already throbbed, swollen with blood. Draco lurched through the hall after Harry, struggling to keep up.

“Fuck! ARGH! Uhh! P-potter! Can’…can’t br-”

“Breathe? Can’t breathe, arsehole? Then maybe shutting the fuck up would have been a good idea! Had to push it didn’t you? You think I thought last year was fun? Was it funny, fucker? I’m laughing, aren’t I? Hah! It’s hilarious!”

Harry dragged Draco down the hall by his tie, never relenting until the privacy of the Room of Requirement was his. It took only moments to summon the room where Draco had once plotted mayhem, and costly mayhem at that. It was astonishing, what money and power could buy, and it had only helped that Snape had exonerated Malfoy of any voluntary involvement.

Harry shoved Draco through the door and closed it behind them. Draco’s eyes were bulging, as much from terror as from lack of air. Potter had gone barking mad. One little insult in the halls. Just a cheap shot between classes, and Potter had fired off spells like they were going out of style, taking out Crabbe and Goyle in a heartbeat, disarming and binding Draco in the next. The next thing Draco knew, he was being dragged down the halls by his own tie, bound and effectively reduced to muted complaints.

Harry finally loosened the tie around Draco’s throat…just before replacing it with his hand and shoving Draco backwards, leading him back until he stumbled into an old desk. Draco sucked in air desperately, gasping for words.

“You can’t…this is…crazy! You can’t do this! Potter! You’re nutters! Barmy! How dare you-”

“Dare? I dare whatever I please. What? What will you do? Call for help? We both know this room is unreachable. No one would hear you. Besides…I didn’t bring you here to hurt you…much.”

Draco’s eyes widened in absolute panic while Potter grabbed his shoulders and turned him across the desk face down, kicking his legs apart and keeping them there by the simple expedient of keeping his own legs between Draco’s. Horror crested when he realized what Potter had to intend. Any semblance of self control or dignity evaporated.

“NO! Please! Come on! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, Potter. We kid each other…right?! We always did…before! It was just…playing around…right? This…you wouldn’t do this…to anyone…would you? You’re a Gryffindor, for fuck’s sake! Stop it…this isn’t funny!”

A hand was already fumbling with Draco’s belt, his robes had been peeled away back in the halls and had been dumped on the dusty floor when Harry brought them here. Panic took over when Draco realized that Potter was deadly serious.

“Please. Don’t…don’t do…this. Harry…I’m begging you.” The words came quietly, ragged with fear. He hoped that the familiar use of Harry’s name might buy him some mercy. “I haven’t…don’t…please don’t hurt me!”

“I won’t…hurt you…if you behave! I just need to see something for myself. I don’t care what people say…I like to know…and there’s only one way. You could have made it a lot easier than this…if you’d wanted to. Now hold still.”

“Pleeeease! No…no…no…”

Draco clenched his eyes shut and sniffled, head down on the desk, hopeless and full of self loathing. There would be no secrets now. Not the one that mattered. No shame was as terrible as a private one, and there could be nothing more horrifying than having it exposed to a rival…as well as by a rival. There was no way out. His belt was hitting the floor, and the button to his slacks had just been roughly tugged open. His trousers were pulled down by a single rough hand, another in the middle of his back to keep him still. Draco’s cheeks were burning while he choked back a sob.

“Well, well, well. I almost doubted. Fucking beautiful. I like them. They look good on you…especially like this.”

A casual finger slid up Draco’s inner thigh, stopping just under the edge of the small, white, cotton panties he was wearing. The intimacy of being touched by someone else…there!…was sending a horrible shiver up his spine. His hands hurt something awful. There had to be something, anything he could say to get out of this!

“You have to believe me! I didn’t mean what I said. None of it. Please! Let me go and I won’t tell anyone. I swear it. Just…don’t tell them about this. I never meant any of the things I said. On my wand…I’d swear it on my wand. A wizard’s oath!”

He heard the chuckle behind him. “I know.”

“W-what?”

“I know you didn’t mean those things. I’m just very tired of hearing them anyway.” 

Harry was leaning in close behind him, and Draco could feel the unsettling warmth of Harry’s body close to his backside. He turned his head and found warm breath brushing against his ear, and when Harry leaned in just a little closer, he could suddenly feel the swollen flesh in Harry’s slacks straining against him.

“Let me tell you what else I know…Malfoy. I know you’re a perfect priss, fretting over every little thing about the way you look…and you look good because of it. I know you brush your hair before you go to bed. I know you sit even when you just need to pee, and that you faked those ’dates’ you had with two Slytherin girls who owed you favors. I know you hold your pillow when you sleep alone…and I know you cry into it when you’re lonely. I know a lot more too.”

Draco was filled with creeping terror. How? How could anyone know more than a few of those things? How could anyone know those things?!

“I’ve a cloak for invisibility, and you know it, and Slytherin dorms aren’t half as well guarded as you prats like to kid yourselves. I can come and go as I please, no one the wiser. Just me. No one else knows all your secrets…but I know.

“I know the way you touch yourself…while you wank…and I know why you do it. I know what you’re thinking of when you do it, because I’ve heard you whisper it…seen you bite your lip while having it off. What you want done to you, and who you want to do it to you.”

Harry’s groin was rubbing against Draco’s nearly bare bottom, and Draco whimpered softly, feeling the warmth and stiffness in those slacks, past the point of pretense, horrified by the reaction he was having…to that gentle hint of friction, in spite of the mingled terror of realizing that Potter had watched him during such intimate moments.

“I even know what you keep in the bottom of that trunk. For when you just can’t stand it anymore. I’ve watched you use it. I know the look on your face when you come so hard that it almost hits your face. You look…you look so beautiful that I can’t stand it.

And I know you said my name.”

“Why?” It came out strangled. Mostly, Draco wanted to cry. Excitement didn’t mingle well with stark terror. He’d expected a fight, and then against all odds, rape, though he’d never once believed that Harry Potter could do such a thing. But this…this weird and frightening seduction was as alien a thing as he could imagine. Horrifying and yet sickeningly tempting. Something had to break…unfortunately it had just been his voice.

“Why do you think?” The hand on his back had slid under his shirt, exposing skin to cool air while it slipped upwards. The other hand kept letting fingers run up the edge of the panties, just around the cleft of his arse, obviously meant to tease, threatening at any second to go further.

“They said I was obsessed…with you…last year. They didn’t know the half of it. I followed you. Everywhere. You only caught me the once. Just once. And only because I saw you crying. You tried to fucking kill me. I wanted to help. Wanted to give you a way out. You miserable shit.

“I didn’t have the new password for this year. Couldn’t get in to see for myself. But I heard a little rumor. About you. I don’t even care about how they knew it. Maybe you’re the kind of wee slut that gives it up to whoever’s powerful enough to take it. Just had to see this for myself…and I like what I see. How does that feel?”

A finger brushed insistently against a place no one but Draco himself had ever touched, and he squirmed and gasped. Something finally snapped…inside. A line drawn once upon a time was erased. He didn’t care. His head was cloudy and the fear was pooling in his gut and changing to…to something else.

“My…my hands hurt. Please.” 

The tone of resignation and surrender wasn’t lost on Harry, but it still wasn’t enough.

“I hear you. But tell me…how does this make you feel? Do you like that?”

A thumb stroked across a whorled surface, respectful even in an act that seemed like violation.

“Yes! I…it feels…it feels good.”

“Give me your word you’ll stay still. Your sworn word…and I’ll untie your hands.”

“I swear it! I swear to Merlin I won’t move…please!”

A whispered charm and the tie slid off of Draco’s hands like a snake, dropping to the floor while Draco flexed his hands and cringed with pain when the blood flowed into them. He left his head flopped on the desk, careful not to do anything that would provoke Harry any further. This was already way out of hand. His fantasies were one thing, but an angry and dangerous real-live Harry was entirely different, not to mention scary as hell. Fingers kept caressing a little further beneath his panties, and Draco whimpered, mostly because his hands really, really hurt, but also because those fingers felt terrifyingly good.

“So…you can follow orders…when you know what’s at stake. That’s good. Here’s something else I know. I know every perverted little fantasy that crossed your filthy little mind last year. I know what you wanted…or what you think you wanted. I know you’re too much of a sniveling little coward to have made any of those things happen. Learning those things…stuff I never even imagined before, because of you…well I guess it had a little impact after all.

This last couple months, all I’ve done is wait…to be here…and do those things with you…to you.”

Draco wriggled sharply, instinctively attempting to rise from panic. He knew the sorts of things he’d imagined very well…but the notion of Harry Potter knowing them…and intending to do them…here…now…was more frightening by far than just being beaten up!

An elbow slammed into Draco’s back, sending the air out of his lungs in a flash, while the hand switched from a soft caress into a vise that pinned him to the desk again.

“That was a mistake. Funny thing…I knew you couldn’t keep a promise, too. That’s fine. We’ll correct that. By the way…your belt is too small and too nice. Looks Italian and expensive, you prissy little bitch! Mine’s about right for this. I think this was long overdue. Just try to remember that this is a lesson. Do what I tell you, when I tell you to do it, and this won’t happen again!”

Draco lost it when he heard the buckle on Harry’s belt open and the quick whisking sound of it sliding free. As soon he tried to force himself up and back, the faint tingle of magic crackled in the air around him, and he flopped back onto the desk, helpless.

“NO! MERLIN! NO! YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T HURT ME! HARRY…PLEASE! DON’T-”

The crack of the belt across his arse was almost deafening and there was no dignity or articulation left in Draco when he yelled. The spell had left his body limp and Harry had backed away just enough to aim his strokes. These weren’t mild little strikes to titillate or please, these were blows aimed to make flesh welt and shriek out in protest.

Draco howled out curses at first, then apologies and pleas, and finally just garbled noises that spilled out between long wails while snot bubbled from his nose and tears rolled freely down his face. This was nothing like the fantasies, and the litany of quiet anger that came from Harry made it all the more unpleasant.

“THAT is what you get for even THINKING that the word MUDBLOOD was funny! THIS is for being a LIAR, and a SNEAK, and a COWARD! When I tell you to do something…ANYTHING…you do it…NO QUESTIONS! I am your fucking GOD…DO NOT make me angry!

I won’t hurt you…if you define hurt as leaving you nearly dead…like the last time you fucking aimed a wand at me! But I will make you sorry! Are you sorry, Draco?! Tell me you’re sorry…because my arm isn’t even tired!”

The words coming out of his mouth didn’t even register in Draco’s brain. He promised everything, anything he could, more sincerely than he’d ever promised anything before, hoping the last stroke he’d received was just that…the last. The belt didn’t fall again…and Draco remained bonelessly limp on the desk, even after the spell broke and his body was his own to move. His legs trembled violently and involuntarily, but at least the support of being half across a desk let him keep his word to not move.

He’d wept when he’d been Marked…after…when no one could see it. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. Complete degradation, more intimate because it was delivered so passionately and directly by another. Not a private and solitary surrender to fear, but a total collapse of his slender illusion of strength, witnessed by the person who engineered it. His burning shame was interrupted by Harry’s voice, almost a welcome interruption after what he’d just endured.

“Very good. Let it all out. Cry as much as you want. You need it. Cathartic…isn’t that what they call it? Pain is like that. Try being under Cruciatus until your arms and legs don’t work right for days afterwards. I have. The difference is this…I didn’t cry. I had nothing to be ashamed of. I was trying to save lives, and I got hurt doing it. I screamed because it hurt, but I didn’t cry. You know what I cried for? Dead friends. Murdered innocents. Not like you. 

You’re crying because that hurt, and because deep down inside, you know exactly why you deserved it! I can take the pain away…if you ask me to…nicely! Do you want it to not hurt?”

Draco was terribly hoarse from screaming, but almost numb inside from shock. He’d never been brutalized in his entire life, barring the moment the Mark took hold on his arm, and the adrenaline in his body had left him in shock and disarray. He wiped his face on his sleeve, suddenly conscious of the mess of tears and snot dripping onto the desk.

“Yes…please. I want that…Harry.”

He stuck to safe words, not daring to move or say anything that might imply challenge. He could hear Harry whispering behind him, and the burning ache of welting flesh suddenly dimmed and faded to only a faint echo of what it had been. Harry peeled the panties down, making Draco shudder anew at the scrutiny. 

“Better. Still a pretty shade of red. I left just enough that you won’t forget this in the morning. I think you’ll remember to pay attention when I tell you something…every time you sit down. Now…where was I? Oh yeah…having a look at this. Are you going to do what I tell you, when I tell you to do it…this time…or will I have to pick the belt back up?”

The air of menace in Harry’s voice chilled Draco to the bone.

“Tell me…tell me what to do…please! Whatever you want!”

“Get on your knees. Now.”

It was a quiet command, but Draco slumped down off the desk, legs tangled in fallen slacks and panties, and hit his knees quickly, shivering on the chill stone. Harry was rubbing the front of his trousers roughly and smirking, green eyes smoldering with inflamed desire.

“That was more like it. You…you’re going to suck me off…the very best suck you can give, and if I come you’re going to drink every fucking drop. If I don’t…if you can’t make me come before I get bored…well…we’ll just see what it will take to get me off then.”

The fly had been opened and Harry fished his largely erect cock out of his trousers and boxers, pulling gently at the ragged, uncut head of the plump cock that jutted a half a foot out from his fly. It was a normal length, but thick and heavy, curling upwards near the head, the foreskin peeling away as Harry stroked himself fully erect.

A hand was in Draco’s hair and his face was suddenly an inch from the thing in front of him while he wobbled unsteadily on his knees. It was utterly perverse, the way he’d dreamed of this moment so often, only to have the reality crash into him rudely. He reached tentatively for it, confused by the fluttering feeling in his stomach and the lingering soreness of his backside. The hand tightened impatiently in his hair, demanding immediate action. Words came tumbling out, a desperate bid for something better than what he was facing.

“I haven’t…ever…” The grip slackened. “Just…I’ll do it…just let me…you know…”

Draco’s cheeks were burning. For all his wicked thoughts and hidden fantasies, he’d never actually done anything…with anyone else…until now. If it had to be now and here, so be it, but he wanted to be given the chance to savor a first experience without stark terror. Harry’s hand loosened entirely, gently pushing back hair that was matted with sweat and woefully out of place.

Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips against the warm and living flesh before him, feeling the faint twitch as Harry reacted to the sudden closeness. The thing in front of him was hard and straining upwards, pushed low by Harry’s hand. Faint moisture was visible at the tip, and the soft musk of another man’s sex was a sharp and sudden reminder of the reality of what he was doing. 

He tentatively raised a hand, slipping it around the heated flesh in front of him, then made an experimental dart of his tongue, dabbing softly against the swollen flesh. Harry made a small hiss, but didn’t move at all, letting Draco work up his nerve on his own terms.

His arse still stung, and his hands were still faintly sore, but he was presented with a situation he’d dreamed of in privacy almost since the day puberty had struck him. Potter. He’d hated and loved that name so passionately, always in silence, always alone, for so long. Now he was here, and however poorly it had started, he was being offered a way to let a dream become real.

How many frantic, lonely wanks in his own bed? How many nights holding a pillow and wishing it was warm, dark skin? Now his lips were gently pressed against Harry’s sex, and even if Potter was more dangerous and amoral than he’d imagined possible, it was still incredibly, powerfully real!

He didn’t really know what to do, but he’d heard girls talk. He’d spelled and spied his way to information for years, and he was fairly sure he wasn’t ready for what might happen if Harry got bored or didn’t come! Draco opened his mouth slowly, and took just the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth, closing his lips and letting the tip of his tongue swirl across the very end of Harry’s prick.

There were little hints of salt and chalk, and something else, weirdly sweet and yet not, all crossing his palate while warm skin filled his mouth. His lips pursed tight, and he pushed forward a little, moving his hand back to the very base, while Harry’s hand pulled away. It was perfect. Harry made a small sound of satisfaction, or at least of pleasure, and Draco felt something strange welling up inside himself.

Desire. Hunger. Pride? However thuggish or cruel, however frightening Harry had been a second ago, he was almost hypnotized now. Draco savored the sensation of hot and sensitive flesh filling his mouth, and pulled back to let his tongue explore everything again. Especially the sensitive skin just under Harry’s foreskin, which Draco could easily peel back using his hand. Harry seemed to like that a lot, gasping and exhaling suddenly, and the words that came from above didn’t sound cruel or controlled at all. They sounded…desperate. 

“God…god damn! Don’t…stop. Thass…s’good! More…keep going. Ahhh….Draco. Perfec’.”

He was going to do it. He was going to make Potter come. Harry’s eyes were closed, and the only time his hands touched Draco, it was to brush through Draco’s hair in a way that was oddly intimate and sensual. Close. Affectionate. The other hand brushed across his cheek, then rested on his shoulder, occasionally clenching with need. It wouldn’t take long like this, but Draco was beginning to enjoy himself.

He didn’t want it to end. This…this was what he’d wanted for so long. Heat and thickness and the knowledge that he was the source of pleasure that intense. He was in control in a very real way. Alive and powerful and getting as much satisfaction as he gave. He settled into a routine of drawing his lips back almost to the tip before sliding back down the wet length and letting it fill the back of his throat. A couple of times he felt the faint flutter of his gag reflex, but only when he pushed too hard to claim more.

He’d steadied himself with one hand on Harry’s hip, the other firmly wrapped around the base of Harry’s cock, squeezing just a little every so often, and he could almost feel the tension building in Harry’s body. When Harry was almost on tip toes, unconsciously pushing against Draco’s shoulder, Draco fought back, refusing to let go or to be pushed away before he’d achieved his goal. He hadn’t spent so long alone and hating it to get this close to a fantasy and let it go unfulfilled.

Harry’s teeth were gritted and his eyes were clenched, and small sounds started to make some sense as terse grunts shifted to breathy words.

“N…mmm…sh…Draco. Draco…gonna…s’good. Bugger! Fucking…Merlin! Com…coming! YES! Fuck! God! Ahhh! AH!”

One moment, Harry’s body was tensed tighter than a harp string and all was going fine…and in the next, Draco’s mouth was suddenly full to capacity with pulse after pulse of hot come! He coughed trying to swallow so quickly and pulled away instinctively, only to wind up with his face getting coated from nose to chin while Harry kept spurting more, shuddering and cursing all the while, and all Draco could do was stare in wide eyed amazement, gasping for breath, disregarding the mess while he took in the reality of what had just happened.

He’d just sucked off Harry Potter. Not just a little playing around, a full on blow job, which Harry had clearly enjoyed. And more…he was achingly stiff in his own right, almost frantically in need of a chance to come, and the reddened head of his prick was peeking up from his lap.

Harry leaned down, suddenly and very deliberately using his tongue to lap the missed droplets of come from Draco’s soaked face, while Draco reeled with surprise. The sudden shift from savage dominance to affection was almost more than his mind could handle. The spongy warmth slithered across his chin and brushed against his lips, and Draco felt instinct take over, kissing back, sucking gently at the lower lip and tilting his head lazily to the side, forgetting even his own aching erection as relief and heated hunger slipped over him simultaneously.

‘Merlin…I didn’t think it would…it would be like this, but I want him…and he wants me! He’s so wicked…I…I like it!’

The warm and cozy imagining, so easy in the heat of a kiss, evaporated when the lips pulled away and drifted just to the edge of his ear, breath warm against the sensitive skin of the lobe.

“You didn’t swallow every drop.”

Draco’s eyes widened with shock while he realized what Harry must mean by that. The man had just come, and rather spectacularly at that! He couldn’t mean to…even after…!

“Get up and hold that desk, and do it quickly, or you’ll wish you had. Do it right, don’t upset me, and you’ll be grateful that you did. Understood?”

There was something just a little softer in the tone, but still firm enough that Draco felt his heart leap with a little fear while he scrambled to his feet and grabbed the desk with both hands.

“Harry…”

“If you’re going to beg, I’d say don’t bother. It would be a waste of breath. You didn’t meet my requirements, and this is what I said would happen. Unlike you, if I say it, it will happen. You need to know that.”

Draco’s legs were shaking involuntarily, and his erection was shrinking with fright. Something like this, even if he’d sort of practiced with a toy before, it could really hurt! He’d never imagined this happening this way! A hand was on the cheek of his arse, and then thumbs were spreading his cheeks, and a whisper of magic was behind him. Then Harry’s voice came to him clearly and evenly, calm in the middle of Draco’s panic.

“I know what you must be thinking. I’ll hurt you, again, like before. If I tell you something, it will be true, and you can believe in it. It will happen. Trust that. What I’m telling you now, you can believe. I won’t hurt you. Not this way.”

Draco risked everything with a word. This wasn’t any part of any fantasy. He had never imagined this total loss of control, so sudden or violent. The lust was slipping away and the fear was back. The first time…it shouldn’t be like this.

“Please…”

Hands were already on his back, and he could the warmth of Harry close to him, not quite touching but so very near. He wasn’t kidding or playing for sympathy…he didn’t mean to let that noise in his throat slip out. The strangled whimper of naked terror. The shaking in his legs wouldn’t quit, and his breaths were the short panic breaths of someone who was past the point of adrenaline and nothing but shaky and frightened.

He felt the difference immediately. Heard the step backward and the irritable sigh of frustration. The hands had pulled away. All he could do was exhale violently with relief and try to stay still. If he moved, there was no telling what might happen.

“I…I can’t do it like this. Not with you…like this. If you’re that scared…get your clothes and go. Put them on.”

The voice behind him was heavy with simmering need, but Draco obeyed immediately, grabbing up his fallen slacks and panties, fumbling to pull them on as quickly as he could. His teeth were chattering while he tried to explain.

“Th-thank you! I…just…that should be…different. Not…like this.”

His first look into Harry’s eyes captured him. Never had green looked so on fire. Contained in that quiet gaze was a barely checked need that nearly made his skin burn from being too close. Potter looked like he was fighting the urge to pounce and take his pleasure at any second.

“Just remember…I want you enough to wait. I know what you want, and how you want it, and I know you want the first time to be different…so I’ll wait…until you’re ready.

But don’t forget this…you…are…mine. Nobody…nobody touches you but me. Don’t kid yourself that I’ll forget or forgive. I want you to enjoy it. I want to please you better than you could ever please yourself…and I will…when you’re ready. But I said I won’t hurt you like that…not that way. Not the first time. I said it…and you can believe it.

Go back to your dorm. Wank if you like. Please yourself. Get off while wishing it was me inside of you, making you pant and come the way you wish I would…and when you’re ready…find me. No one else. Me. Am I understood?”

“Yes!” It came out a tremulous bark. He’d meant to control his voice, but his nerves were still too jangled to trust. “Okay. I…I’ll be…I’ll find you when…”

Harry turned and left without a word, ending the spells on the room with a dismissive flick of his hand. The door slammed shut behind him while Draco shuddered in surprise, looking around until he found where his robe had been thrown.

His chin was still faintly damp with Harry’s come and saliva. His bladder felt terribly full, kidneys racing in the aftermath of excitement and fright. The room felt chill and empty, and his bum and the skin near his wrists still smarted. His wand was on the desk. A muttered set of spells and the pain was gone.

Was it violation…if you dreamed of it every night? If you’d sat alone in your room for years, wondering if anyone would ever make those thoughts come true? Was there such a thing as too much reality?

It had always felt sexy and dangerous to dream of, and the memory of Harry’s hidden knowledge suddenly made him shudder. Harry had violated him in more ways than the physical, and it was just a little sickening to realize that the abuse of power and ruthlessness had been…exciting. Attractive. Potent. Harry was now more worthy of respect than he’d ever been. Power was everything to a Malfoy, and that fact had been bred into Draco’s very bones. His real shame in this life had never been anything as simple as a little lust and silent need. It had always been about the power.

He wanted it taken from him. Desperately. That was what Harry knew. Draco’s every fantasy had revolved around the person who had never backed away from him, always challenging, never meek or frail. He’d never admitted it to anyone…the way Harry affected him. He’d kept that to himself since he’d been old enough to wank. Harry was at the center of it, always unyielding, always commanding, always powerful and swift and hungry for what Draco wanted to offer.

But those were only ever fantasies. This was something else again. Something as different from a fantasy as night was from day. Harry wanted him, and even shaken and sore, humiliated and suddenly alone, Draco still wanted Harry. There was a weird kernel of certainty forming in his mind. The matter had been taken from his hands, just as he‘d always wanted it to be. He would give himself to Harry, and Harry wouldn’t hurt him that way. The first time would be right and good and exactly what he wanted, and if someone so ruthless and forceful would choose not to take what they pleased…what did it say about the strength of their feelings for Draco? Could a price be placed on being desired that way? On a dream made real?

&H/D&H/D&H/D&H/D&H/D&H/D&H/D&H/D&H/D&

ONE MONTH LATER:

One comment. That was all it taken. One stray comment, and from a Gryffindor no less, and Harry had scared the boy down the hall and back to his dorm with a look. Word had leaked out, as it inevitably would have, and while some muttered amongst themselves that any contact between Harry and Draco was unutterably wrong, they all knew better than to test Harry on the subject. He’d made it clear from the first mention of it that no one would interfere. And Draco liked it that way.

The leak had likely started in Slytherin, and Draco knew it was probably his own fault. He just didn’t care. It was worth a smirk to think that others had imagined his embarrassment over this. They knew nothing. They couldn’t even imagine.

He’d acted differently, in subtle ways, and in not so subtle ways, since that day in the Room Of Requirement. Within days of that single encounter he’d wanked himself raw, Harry’s name on the tip of his tongue, painfully aware that his toy could never satisfy him again now that he knew what was just within his grasp and ready for the taking. He hadn’t made it a week before he’d signaled Harry and slipped off one night. And what a night it had been.

There had been no disappointments, and no regrets. He’d been treated with respect and gentleness, showered with kisses and teased until all he wanted was to be pleasured. If they had fumbled for lack of practice, it hadn’t been noticed in the blur of mutual hunger. Harry had kept his promise, and Draco had lived out the first of his fantasies, sealing a pact between them with cries of ecstasy while he came, speared and plundered by the wealth of Harry’s cock inside of him.

Nearly every night since that had been another exploration, sometimes nervously voicing a desire to Harry, and other times surrendering himself completely from the first, eager to be claimed and filled. Harry responded so passionately to just a few words, and while some might have doubted the sincerity of a Malfoy, every word was true. He’d told Harry, frank and direct in the hazy aftermath of lovemaking, that on the nights they were apart, he pined alone. When he whispered that they should be together always, never separated cruelly by the secrecy surrounding their newborn relationship, Harry answered with a hot hunger that showed his gratitude in every way.

Each new meeting between them had brought the sating of Draco’s every urge or whim, every wicked and dirty little imagining transformed into a pulse pounding and lusty reality. It wasn’t easy, even for him, to remember that a few weeks ago he’d been a terrified virgin, scared by what he’d unleashed in Harry. That virgin had been a different person, from a different time, and this person now had known orgasms that had shaken his body and soul, brought by a lover that knew him like no other could have, and who understood his every need without question.

He’d sometimes been ‘disobedient’, always in vague little ways, always with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Harry knew what that meant without a word between them. Punishment. Never terrible, but always a precursor to pleasure. Harry was going through the motions, convincingly, but without real anger driving him. The hard crack of a calloused palm across Draco’s arse cheek had become a familiar and sensual sound in these past weeks. More so when he felt the need to be reminded of Harry’s strength. 

If people had noticed the difference in his walk, or in his voice or actions, then so be it. Was he distracted? Quite. Other things seemed to fade away like the buzz of flies these days. None of it mattered. Not long ago he’d listened to every word spoken near him, playing the rough little games that dominated the Slytherin landscape. Now they meant nothing to him.

He smiled more. Not a goofy, insipid smile, or a cruel smirk of arrogance. It was a smile with mysteries, hinting that the person who wore it knew things that others could never grasp. He walked differently, and not because of some petty discomfort, but because only weeks ago he had possessed no confidence in his own sexuality, and now he sauntered with a quiet air of understanding, eyes flicking calmly toward others as needed, gloriously aware of his own strengths and desirability as a lover. The bitter whispers of others couldn’t take that from him.

Those bitter whispers had drawn Harry’s ire. Someone had caught a glimpse of the look that passed between the two of them, silent and yet smoldering, and their voice had been too loud to be ignored. The hexes had flown so fast that the boy hadn’t even gotten his wand up, and had taken flight almost immediately while Draco watched impassively, silently reveling in Harry’s public display of power.

And then Harry was walking toward him, not quite looking at the other boys and girls scattered along the hall, some staring openly, others trying frantically to pretend they weren’t interested. The wand was in his left hand, trembling faintly with contained rage, the other hand was coming up while Harry stepped close and near, eyes still fixed on the people around them. One hand cupped Draco’s chin and pulled him closer still, and Draco couldn’t help the sneer of victory that curled lips meant only to meet Harry’s.

No one dared to say a word. Not with green eyes watching for as much a twitching lip, even while his mouth worked hungrily against Draco’s. They were all cowed and silent, and still couldn’t have heard the words whispered between them as the kiss parted.

“They know nothing. They never will. What they think means nothing to me. I told you…you were mine, but…you should know…you should know that I’m yours. No one else’s, Draco. Yours.”

And Draco answered, “I know.”

FIN


End file.
